"Hell no," I say, frowning, earning a disapproving look from my parents. "I've already had enough with being forced to marry her, and now you want us to produce an heir before the wedding and coronation." I watch you shrink at my words and put your fork aside, stopping eating.

It's all been so rushed. Two weeks ago, I didn't even know you or that I was going to marry you. My parents brought you into the palace without warning, and that same night they informed me that you would be my future wife. Don't get me wrong, you're beautiful, polite, kind, everything a queen needs. But I don't love you, and you don't love me back either.

But it's okay, I understand. This system is outdated, and I need to get married to be king, so accepting you wasn't hard; it's something that has to be done. You're adjusting well to life in the palace, and I'm adjusting to you. But the real kicker happened today when my parents told us we should start trying to produce an heir, so when we get married and I become king, they'll already have their next guinea pig. No way am I putting my future child through something like that; these shitty laws end with me.

The worst part is having to see your face after listening to me. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel bad.